The Journal of Magnus Chase: The Golden Dragon
by Brother Raven
Summary: This journal holds the untold stories about Magnus Chase and his friends, their lives as the einherjar, and the adventures they had along the way of saving the Nine Worlds. Stories which are not as important as the main ones, but equally as exciting. Now, they are finally being told; after all, what good is a story if you can't share it?


**Here it is – my first Magnus Chase story. I've read** _ **The Sword of Summer**_ **, it was glorious (I dare saying it is Rick's best opening book of any series), and I just felt like writing this. Let's not think of this as an adventure that would happen in Book 2, but more like a side-story. We can assume this happens a month, or so, after the first book. With that in mind, I hope you'll enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer:** The following is a non-profit, fan-fiction. Rick Riordan and Disney Hyperion own _Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard_.

* * *

My name is Magnus Chase, and I'm a Viking. No, I don't have a giant beard, a ridiculously large battleaxe, or that funny helmet with horns. Instead, I have a pointy chin, a pendant that can turn into the sharpest sword in existence… Oh, right, I'm also dead. Just a month ago, I was one of the many homeless people in the streets of Boston, minding my own business, living on my own along with few friends. Then I died. Impossible, you say. I don't blame you, if I didn't experience that, I probably agree. However, just as I hit my sweet sixteen, I fell from the Longfellow Bridge, after battling the Lord of Fire Giants, with a huge chunk of half-molten asphalt stuck in my chest. After that, I learned that all the gods and creatures from the Norse mythology (and possibly others, but that's another story) are real, I became an undead warrior, my friends turned out to be a pair of magical guardians, and I saved the Nine Worlds from being destroyed before their scheduled time. I graduated from a scrawny vagabond to the hero of Asgard, in span of a week. Plus, I finally found a place I can call 'home'.

Okay, this is turning out to be much sappier than I wanted it to be. If any of my friends from the Nineteenth Floor were to find this journal (especially Mallory Keen), they would probably laugh their butts off whenever they see me until the end of days. I joined that merry bunch of misfits on the very first day. They were awesome, really, but recently they found a new hobby shared by all three of them; during combat sessions, they would use me as a human shield and make me take most of the damage to gain the field advantage. This was because I was able to heal the fastest of them all, and I would resurrect much quicker than they would. Yes, ever since becoming one of Odin's einherjar, I was somewhat immortal. I could still die in eight out of Nine Worlds, but as long as I was in Valhalla, I would survive every wound. All of us would, but it doesn't change fact that dying still hurts! Word of warning: If you ever join us here, in Hotel Valhalla, be sure that you will be training a lot (also, _do_ take the mini-bar key, it's awesome!). If I had to describe the life of an einherji in a shortest way possible, it would probably be, 'you spend most of your time either practicing your combat skills or recovering from wounds because you didn't practice long enough.' There are some stories I could tell, about the daily routine of the undead Viking, but right now let's focus on the one I've prepared – when I became an errand boy for my aunt, again.

This story starts in my personal afterlife, also known as my hotel room. As always, it was pleasantly warm, and the pleasant breeze carried the scent of jasmine. An incense stick, you say. No, I have a fully developed meadow in my room; an actual meadow with fresh grass, green trees, and everything else that a proper meadow needs. I liked my meadow. I woke up to the twittering of my alarm clock. Strange, considering that I couldn't remember setting it the previous night. Actually, I didn't even _have_ an alarm clock!

"Magnus? Magnus, wake up." A soft and gentle voice spoke to me. If I ever had an alarm clock, this wouldn't be a bad sound to hear while waking up. But I didn't have an alarm clock, and the voice sounded very familiar. "Please?"

I slowly opened my eyes, wiped the remaining guck, and mumbled something (now that I think about it, it was probably "Five more minutes"). When the world finally stopped being all fuzzy, I saw that someone was sitting on my bed. A woman. A very beautiful woman; she was tall, with blonde hair flowing down her side, and a pair of amazing blue eyes.

"Aunt Freya?!" I immediately woke up, realizing that the goddess of love and beauty was paying me a visit. Oh, yeah, she's my aunt by the way; my father is Frey, god of summer. I guess the Vanir gods aren't very clever with names. I quickly sat on my bed and grabbed the covers. Just so you know, I'm no prude, but this was my aunt first, a goddess second, and I was sleeping in just my boxers third.

"Oh, don't mind me, I won't be here long," she replied. That's when I realized that she hadn't moved an inch, even after I pulled the covers. Her image was slightly transparent, as if made out of light.

"Is that a hologram?" I asked, slowly reaching towards Freya. As expected, I swiped through her, as nothing was there. Her image flickered but didn't disappear. It was just like in _Star Trek_.

The goddess only smiled and shook her head gently. "It's just a projection of thoughts. Very simple trick, useful in communication, and definitely cheaper than a phone. But that's not important right now; Magnus, I need you to come to Folkvanger. It's important."

"What's wrong? Are you being attacked?" I asked, remembering my last visit at my aunt's place. The Field of the Army was one of the possible afterlives one could go after death. If you're a demigod child of a Vanir god, the chances are higher. If Valhalla was a hotel, I guess Folkvanger was somewhat reminiscent of a summer camp; everything there was mellow, calm, and filled with eternal laziness. Sure, it looked like a vulnerable place, but I couldn't imagine it being a target of an invasion.

Freya raised her eyebrows in surprise. She then laughed and this laughter was the gentlest, most beautiful, sound I have ever heard. I change what I said before; _that_ was something I'd like to have for my alarm clock. "No, of course not. If that was the case, believe me, I would handle myself. No, I need you for something far more important, but this is not the time to talk about it. Eat some breakfast and come to Folkvanger as soon as you can. Thank you, darling."

She waved gently and her image dissolved from before my eyes. All she left behind was a faint scent of cinnamon. I fell back onto my bed and sighed heavily. Somehow, I had a feeling that this wasn't going to be as simple as Freya made it look.

* * *

 **A/N.: Okay folks, this is all I have for you in chapter one. The chapters are going to be short, because I don't want to make this a one-shot, but I think I'll manage to keep them circa 1000 words. I hope you enjoyed this introduction, and I'll see you all in the next chapter!**


End file.
